


Lovely Day For A Guinness

by Thistlerose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Ficlet, Ireland, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James and Remus visit Ireland and share a few pints.  (Written in 2005.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovely Day For A Guinness

“Crikey,” said James.

Remus set his Guinness down on the table, and peered at his friend. “Excuse me,” he said as politely as though he were addressing a complete stranger, “but did you just say ‘crikey’?”

“Blimey,” James said, continuing to stare out the pub’s window. “Will you look at that rain? It’s _pissing_ rain. You can’t even see Dingle Harbour anymore. It’s all grey.”

“Good thing we came in here when we did, then,” said Remus.

“That’s right,” James agreed heartily. “We’re not shirking our responsibilities. We’re avoiding getting drenched.”

“And getting pneumonia,” Remus added, finishing off his drink.

“Exactly,” said James. “Can’t serve the Order if we’re dead from noo-mee-owe-nah.” He turned back to Remus. Behind his rain-spattered glasses, his hazel eyes were perplexed. “That didn’t come out right at all. Noo-mee-nah,” he tried again, screwing up his face. “Num-yah-nah. Bugger, I need another pint. So do you,” he said, rising unsteadily, and lurching toward the bar.

Remus leaned back against the peeling leather seat, and gazed out the window. Dingle Harbour was indeed invisible behind what appeared to be pewter-grey veils rippling in the stiff breeze.

He thought, _I know someone with eyes that color. That very color._ His shoes and socks were soaked, his jeans were muddy, his jumper smelled strongly of sheep, he was cold, hungry, and whatever had brought him and James to Ireland in the first place was rapidly sinking in a sea of Guinness, but it seemed to him that if there existed in the world a person with eyes that color, and if Remus knew him, then there was no reason for Remus not to be completely happy.

James came back looking flushed and oddly chuffed, carrying two more pints of Guinness and a basket of chips. He set them in front of Remus, then flopped down beside him.

“I like Ireland,” James announced, reaching across the table for the malt vinegar, which he sprinkled liberally over the chips. “The red-haired girls like me here. They don’t like me over in England. I’ve got to get Lily over here.”

Remus poked the tip of his tongue into the foam that crowned his glass. “Lily likes you.”

“Yeah,” said James, brandishing his chip like a wand, “but she’ll bloody _love_ me in Ireland. In Ireland I am desirable to redheads. There are _four_ over at the bar, all wanting to get into my pants. I’ve _got_ to get Lily over here.”

Remus took a hasty sip. The Guinness went down sluggishly. His belly was beginning to feel distinctly rounder, and this was only his third pint. “I’m in love,” he said.

“Are you, then?” said James.

“Yup.”

“With Padfoot.”

“M’not shagging anyone else.”

“And you figured this out…?”

“Just now,” said Remus. “Well, I mean, a few minutes ago. While you were at the bar.”

“Can’t leave you alone, ever, can I? Not even for five minutes.”

“Nope,” said Remus, gulping his drink.

James popped another chip in his mouth, and chewed in thoughtful silence for a moment. He swallowed and said decisively, “Ireland’s fucking brilliant.”

“Dinctly,” slurred Remus. _No, that’s not right._ “Stincterly.”

“What’re we doing here, again?”

“Drinking.”

“I mean, in Ireland.”

“Buggered f’I know.”

“Next round’s on you, you bloody poof. You know that, right?”

“Cheers,” said Remus.

02/13/05


End file.
